Bad Influence
by AngelxPhoenix
Summary: "Her warmth was sinking under his skin until it felt like a little fire flickering through him...her voice soft and her words so full of that hope he was starting to think nothing could destroy..."


**Whew, so many deadlines... Today's prompt is "smoke." This falls between "Still" and "Alone" on the timeline, and kinda got away from me as far as planning vs. execution goes. Also, confused!Daryl was an unexpected joy to write, and I look forward to doing it again. Enjoy!**

The thing about that shack they burned down, there were a million others like it scattered across Georgia. And while the dingy single-wide set back from the road wasn't technically a shack, it sure as hell didn't count as anything else.

The doors and windows were all shut; that was the first thing Daryl noticed when he circled the place, crossbow held ready to fire. Behind him, Beth had her knife in hand as she glanced over their surroundings, keeping an eye on the yard while he took the lead on the trailer. He approached the front door and pounded a fist against it several times, then listened carefully for noise inside. None met his ears, and he tried the knob.

Unlocked. This was either a waste of time or a _really_ bad idea.

He turned back to Beth, watching intently. "What d'you think?" he asked. "Leave it, or take a look?"

She thought about it before she answered. "If it's open, somebody either left nothing behind, or already picked the place over."

"Could be," he agreed. "Could be something wandered in and hadn't come back out."

"You would have heard it."

"Maybe. I didn't hear anything right off, don't mean there ain't something still in there."

"So...we leave it?"

Daryl shrugged. "Up to you."

She thought about it some more, and he was glad to see her take her time, trying to consider all the angles. She was learning quick. "Even if there's nothing worth finding in there, it's still a shelter," she said, "and it's getting colder at night. It might be worth checking out just for that."

"Might be."

She gave him a look, but he wasn't making the decision for her. "All right," she said, "I think we oughta take a look."

He nodded. "All right. Stay alert, and stay quiet." He turned the knob, pushed the door open, and they stepped inside the trailer.

It was better than the moonshine shack, though not by much. Dirty carpet in the living room under dusty thrift store furniture, peeling wallpaper on the walls, sunlight dim through grimy windows. Daryl took a few cautious steps inside, enough to let Beth get through the door, then motioned her towards one end of the trailer while he moved to other. Through the kitchen to the master bedroom and bathroom and no signs of anything living or dead, but he didn't relax until he met Beth back in living room and she shook her head. Nothing.

By the time they'd scoured the place about ten minutes later, they had turned up even more nothing. Whoever had lived here or passed through ever since hadn't left jack shit behind them. Daryl searched one end of the trailer while Beth took the other, and they brought anything likely to be useful with them into the living room. "You find anything?" she asked.

"Not much," he admitted, spreading the meager loot on the floor. A shower curtain, a matchbook with only about half the matches missing, and a box of stale granola. "What about you?"

Next to his finds, she set a thin fleece blanket and a backpack containing a roadside emergency kit minus the tools and jumper cables. "And, um..." She looked slightly awkward, fumbling with something in her hands, "You smoke, right?" And she held out a pack of Pall Malls.

Slightly amused, he took them from her and flipped the pack open. Two left, one of them broken, and they weren't his preferred brand, but a cig was a cig. "Yeah, I do," he answered. "Thanks, Beth."

She smiled.

They double- and triple-checked the doors and windows before beginning to settle in. They had a few handfuls each of the granola and a few sips of water, then assessed the sleeping arrangements while they had light. The trailer was badly insulated and it was already getting chilly, and since neither of them was brave enough to sleep on the moldy sofa or recliner, they spread the shower curtain on the living room floor, Daryl taking the fleece while Beth kept the space blanket from the emergency kit. Whoever bought the kit had also customized it; there were road maps that were several years out of date, a plastic bag of cat litter, and a tin can bundled with several candles. "Homemade space heater," he said, standing one of the candles inside the tin and lighting it from the matchbook. "Works better in a car, but it's still a light."

They didn't have any moonshine this time to help break the silence, but the silence between them was no longer strained. Beth took out the maps to look them over, one of the state, the other from the county chamber of commerce showing local roads. "These might come in handy if we're just gonna drift around for the rest of our lives," she said, unfolding the local one and examining it in the candlelight.

"Thought you wanted to look for the others," he replied.

"They'll help with that, too, hopefully."

Hopefully. That wasn't a word he used often, though now he didn't think he'd ever use it without thinking of her. Good Lord, the girl just didn't quit. "Anyplace in particular you wanna start looking?"

She shrugged a bit hesitantly, the weight of her proposal settling on her shoulders. "They could be _anywhere_ , Daryl. Might as well start looking in the same place." She sat quietly for a moment, then she brightened again. "Why don't you have that cigarette?"

He shrugged as well. "Thought we were trying to talk strategy. Why?"

It was getting darker by the minute, but he'd gotten to know her well enough to know when she was looking sheepish, even in bad light. "No reason," she said casually. "It's just that I've heard some people have a hard time kicking the habit, like, they just _think_ about smoking and they gotta have a cigarette-"

"Beth," he interrupted, getting suspicious, "say what you're gonna say without the bullshit. Get straight to the point."

She paused, then shrugged again. "I've never smoked before. I was just curious..."

He shoulda seen that coming. Her quest for alcohol was all the lesson he needed on when she felt like trying new things.

"Just one drag," she added, and for some reason it was funny hearing her talk like that. "I doubt I can do a whole one. I just wanna try it."

"First you start drinking," he said, "now you wanna start smoking...think I been a bad influence on you, girl."

"Not bad," she protested. "Might as well live a little, right?"

He looked at her a moment, then took the intact cigarette from the pack and handed it to her. She hesitated, then held it between her fingers. "Like that?"

He nodded, looking down at the matchbook in his hand so she couldn't see him smiling. He tore out a match and struck it, beckoning to her, and she put the cigarette to her lips and leaned closer so he could light it. It caught and he shook the match and watched while she inhaled; she was fine at first, then her eyes widened and she broke into a coughing fit, trying to clear the smoke from her lungs. He restrained himself to a chuckle as she waved the last of the smoke away from her face and handed him the cigarette. "That's _awful!"_ she burst out. "You _enjoy_ that?"

"Takes some getting used to," he replied, taking a long drag and nearly moaning in relief when the nicotine hit him. "Oh _fuck_ , that's good..."

She raised her eyebrows at him, still coughing a little. "You okay there, or should I give you two some privacy?"

"Watch yourself," he warned her, though he couldn't help feeling amused. Now that they'd learned to actually talk to each other, she was turning out to be a sassy little smart aleck and he found it entertaining.

They sat in the dark for several minutes while he finished the cigarette, and he had a feeling she was thinking long and hard about something. He was never one to pester anyone into conversation, and he'd learned she would say what was on her mind when she was ready, so he waited. She was straightforward, and he'd always respected that in people.

The cig had burned to the filter by the time she spoke. "What if we don't find them?" she asked. "Any of them?"

Didn't expect _that_. He shrugged, not sure if he wanted to answer that one. "Ain't even started looking yet."

"I know. But...well, maybe we oughta think about it right away. So we don't get our hopes up, and so we have a backup plan. That makes sense, right?"

He nodded slowly, then used words when he remembered it was too dark to see. "Yeah, it does. What're you thinking?"

She'd look surprised and pleased he was asking for her input, if the candle gave off enough light to see it. "It's gonna be winter soon," she said, "and we'd be better off finding somewhere to hole up before the weather gets bad, but so will the others. Maybe...maybe we can, I dunno, think of a few places they might think of and try looking there first. That's a start."

"It is," he agreed. "Might have a few places like that marked on that map."

"Yeah, maybe," she said, and despite what she'd said about it, he still heard the note of hope in her voice. She really _didn't_ quit. Like she just couldn't help it. And he was starting to appreciate that.

"And if...if we never find them," she went on, "then maybe...we'll just have to find a way to start over. You and me. We'll be like Robin Hood and Little John."

She said the last part so flippantly he laughed a little. "I'da thought you meant Maid Marian," he told her.

"No way! Little John was the faithful sidekick. Maid Marian was the damsel in distress. Usually, at least."

"And you sure ain't that."

"Oh, thanks for noticing." By the faint light from their candle, he could see her fold the map again, though she was more a suggestion of shape than a definite form. She stretched out to lay down, tucking the space blanket around herself and drawing a shivery breath. "Besides," she added, "his name was _Little_ John, and I'm little. It works better."

"He also kicked Robin's ass and knocked him off that bridge," he reminded her. "You planning on picking fights with me, Greene?"

"If I do, you'll probably deserve it, Mr. Dixon," she shot back. She kept fidgeting, rooting around like she was trying to dig a burrow. "Shit," she cursed softly.

"'S the matter?" he asked.

"I'm _cold!"_

He shook his head at her. "Barely even chilly, and you're 'bout to freeze to death."

"I told you, I'm little! I don't do well in chilly. Why do you think I live in the South?"

"'Cause your folks had a farm in the South and you lived with them."

"Oh ha ha, very funny." She curled up on her side, arms and legs tucked close to her body, and there was no way sleeping like that was going to be very comfortable. "Here," he said, moving the space blanket aside and covering her with the fleece before replacing the mylar.

"But won't you get cold?"

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Say it without the bullshit, Daryl, remember?"

"I don't bullshit. I'll be all right."

"I don't believe you. Get under here."

He paused. "What?"

"You heard me," she replied, stretching out again. "We can share. We'll both be warmer that way."

"Beth, I don't...I dunno if those blankets'll cover both of us."

"They will. I've told you, I'm little."

He knew that well enough. Back at the prison when he'd told her about Zach, she'd folded herself around him and held him while he had no idea how to respond, unused to anyone touching him and thinking it strange that her boyfriend just died and she was trying to comfort _him_ when surely it should be the other way around. And she'd felt so fragile he'd wondered how someone like her could survive the world they were living in. Her size made it that much easier to manhandle her at the moonshine shack; that shit wasn't cool, drunk and angry or not, regardless of whether or not he was actually going to hurt her. He could do it without meaning to, she was so small and delicate. Then, again, she had put her arms around him and held him together while he was falling apart, and in the middle of his pain and grief, he began understand her strength.

Yeah, she was little. And it didn't mean shit.

He hesitated, then moved, laying down beside her and sliding under the blankets with her. They _weren't_ going to cover both of them, not unless they were laying pressed closer than they were. She scooted back and he edged forward until her back was against his chest, and she wiggled even closer with a sigh of relief. "Warmer already," she said. "Thanks, Daryl."

"Don't mention it," he replied.

"I know you don't really like people touching you..."

Had she noticed? Avoiding contact had become second nature to him and _he_ hardly even noticed anymore. "I've gotten used to you," he told her. "'Sides, it'd be kinda weird seeing Maggie again, telling her I let you die of hypothermia or some shit."

"You think we're gonna find her?"

"I dunno. You think we might?"

"If I didn't think so, I wouldn't bother looking." She was quiet for a beat and he felt her start to relax against him, the extra blanket and their combined body heat sinking in. "If we don't, though, what do you think we should do?"

He sighed, his breath ruffling her hair. "Don't know about that, either. I thought we were gonna start over like Robin Hood and Little John."

"You mean it?"

"Don't see why I wouldn't. Told you once, girl, I ain't no bullshitter."

"No," she agreed. "You're not."

They were quiet for several long minutes. Long enough for him to feel glad for her warmth, because it _was_ getting chilly. Long enough for him to think she'd gone to sleep until she spoke again. "What do you think that'd be like, us starting over?"

"Someplace hidden'd be all right," he replied. "Water nearby, easy to keep secure."

"Yeah, but the _living_ part, Daryl. What about that?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Trying to get by. Maybe living off the land, hunting and foraging for dinner..."

"You know how to forage?"

"You know how to hunt?"

Touché.

"We'll each have to teach the other what we know so we _can_ survive alone, but we'll look out for each other so we don't have to. And maybe we'll look for more people if we feel like it. I mean, it'll be tough, but we could make it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do." She shifted slightly to tuck her arm under her head for a pillow and leaned closer against him for the briefest second, and he automatically wrapped his arm around her to hold her. They both paused, he just as caught off guard by the motion as she was, then she sighed and relaxed further, making no move to brush him off. "There's...there's got to be something better, Daryl," she told him. "Everything we've had to survive so far, it can't all just be a waste. This can't be all we're stuck with."

 _It wouldn't kill you to have a little faith._

Her warmth was sinking under his skin until it felt like a little fire flickering through him. He relaxed into her, her voice soft and her words so full of that hope he was starting to think nothing could destroy, and he felt it tugging at him and urging him along. "What if it is?" he asked, not to bring her down but wondering how she could keep rising like she did.

"If it is, then I'm glad I'm stuck with you."

That little flickering fire burned warmer and brighter, and there were no words he could think of that could tell her how grateful he was to her, not just for her hope and faith, but for her faith in him and the hope she was stirring up inside him. In the end, he closed his eyes as he reached for her hand and brushed his fingers against hers, all the encouragement she needed to take his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

They lay still, the silence stretching out for what felt like hours before she changed her hold on his hand, covering it with hers and steering him over her stomach. He didn't stop her, just waited with quiet curiosity to see what she was doing; she slipped their hands under her shirt and across her skin, pressing him flat against her belly. His heart skipped a few beats and she was leaning so close to him, she had to have felt it. She traced her fingers over his knuckles and the back of his hand and he started tracing similar patterns with his fingers on her stomach. He...he _liked_ touching her, and letting her touch him. She was soft and gentle and he was always half-afraid he'd break her, but she kept proving him wrong.

He heard the chink of a belt buckle and the rasp of a zipper, but neither sound registered until she moved their hands again, down, down, down into her unbuttoned jeans and through the thatch of curly hair until their fingers were at her warm, wet cunt. She let out a tiny breath and just like that, the blood was rushing to his cock so fast his head started spinning.

She started stroking herself and before long he was doing the same, their fingers slick with her juices, dipping in and out of her cunt, gliding along her labia, and swirling around her clit. She started making more noises, tiny _oohs_ and _mmhs_

of pleasure, and without even thinking about it he started rocking into her, grinding his cock against her ass. He could smell her, musky and sweet, and he wondered what she would taste like as he buried his fingers deep inside her and she moaned softly.

Her fingers were working faster, circling her clit frantically while he thrust his fingers in and out, rutting harder against her while she twisted and writhed in his arms, her moans getting louder and higher until she reached a fever pitch-

She let out a single cry before she pushed his hand away and turned onto her back, yanking her jeans down her legs and grappling at the front of his pants. He hovered over her as he unbuttoned and unzipped, aligning his cock and her cunt before thrusting into her. It was a fast and desperate pace, pulling out and pushing in while her hips jumped up to meet him, both of them moaning and grunting and growling much louder than was wise. He could feel her tightening around his cock and he pumped harder, faster, she was close and he was going to get her there, damn it, she was almost there, she-

His eyes snapped open at a snore from her, feeling disoriented and all kinds of hot and bothered. She was still asleep next to him, he still had his arm around her, and- _shit_ -he was hard.

What...what the _fuck?_

Carefully trying to angle his body away from her without waking her so she couldn't feel it while trying not to let go of her or pull the blankets off either of them was a feat on its own, but he was determined to make it work. Determined and guilty. What the hell made him dream of her like _that?_ How could he lay next to her in good conscience with that in his head? He tried putting a little more space between them; damned if he was going to let her wake up to _that_.

Keeping his eyes open this time, he tried to focus on the Beth in his arms, not dwell on the one in his dream. His friend, one of the few he'd ever had, the one to spark some kind of hope inside him. This was real, him and her huddled together for warmth because that was them looking out for each other. Surviving together. Which is what you did when you cared about someone, look out for them. That's what this was. That other, well...

What the hell was that about?

 **Leave me some love!**


End file.
